Because I Can
by Never-Forget-Never-Forgive
Summary: Because if she wanted to destroy someone's life, she could. Because if she wanted to ruin someone's happiness, she could. But despite all of that, she only wanted one thing: take away what made Constance Hardbroom a human being instead of the well functioning machine she once created. M to be sure. Multi-chapters. Femslash, HB/Drill.
1. Chapter 1

**Because I can**

On a Sunday morning, at Cackle's Academy for young witches, Mildred Hubble awoke with energy. Finally, a day that she could spend with her friends without being yelled at by HB! Without suffering in a potion class during an exam, without the pain of running into the woods with their P.E. teacher; a day without her ears hurting because of Miss Bat's singing! A normal day.

Mildred got out of bed with a huge smile, ready to do sweet nothing all day long with Maud, Ruby, Jadu and Enid. Maybe even Fenella and Griselda, too, if they weren't too busy planning something amazing and potentially dangerous!

She was so happy with this perfect day ahead of her, that she didn't even notice it was only 4 a.m! She stormed out of her room with her stuff to go and take a shower, when she ran straight into Miss Hardbroom.

"Watch your feet, girl!" barked the older witch, looking even paler and thinner than usual.

"Sorry Miss Hardbroom... But... Are you okay Miss?" asked Mildred while getting her things with shame, things who were all over the floor.

"Perfectly fine, Mildred. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have unfinished business to attend to." replied the potion Mistress in a hurry.

Without looking back at the pupil, Miss Harbroom turned on her heels, her long black hair floating behind her.

Mildred looked at her with worried eyes; after all, she was a student up after lights out... and she wasn't even dead or grounded! No lines to write, no floor to wash with her own toothbrush. Nothing!

Somehow, the usually fierce teacher wasn't in her natural state. But what was the matter with Constance Hardbroom?

xxx

Something was the matter with the powerful witch, indeed. It has been a rough week, with a lot of stress to deal with; Constance knew that_ she_ was coming to visit the Academy soon, but didn't know when exactly. The wait was unbearable. The woman knew what to expect, and yet she was still incredibly afraid; not that she'll ever admit it, of course.

But for the first time in her entire life, she wasn't afraid for herself. In fact, she couldn't care less about her own safety right now, because someone else's was far more important.

When Constance opened her chamber's wooden door, she felt a little bit less anxious. She was home, where no one could reach her, where no one could touch her... Well, unless if she wanted to.

The tall witch closed the door behind her, the action followed by her fingers casting a spell to light the candles in her bedroom. She wasn't suppose to use magic for such small matters... but she liked it. She felt complete when she did, in control.

She was about to get ready for the night and undress when she saw a small silhouette lying in her bed. Constance's eyebrows frowned, taking in sight the woman with short blond hair and tanned skin, who was looking back at her with piercing green eyes.

Constance's gaze softened as soon as she saw her lover's eyes. The non-witch had this effect on her; calming her down instantly, forcing her to relax with a simple look.

"Imogen, what are you doing here?" whispered the witch while sitting down on her bed, taking the blonde's hand in her own.

"Waiting for you, actually. I talked to Amelia this morning, about your rather strange behavior those past days." said the non-witch with a soft voice, stroking Constance's pale hand with her thumb.

"I am _not_ acting strange!" said the tall woman with the high-pinched voice she took when she was on the defensive.

"Oh, come on! You've been ignoring me for a _week_. It hurts, you know." replied Imogen, pouting and using all of her talents to do the puppy eyes.

There was a long silence between the two women, during which Imogen regained her serious face, Constance closing her eyes because it was too much for her. Too much to imagine that, if the worst happened, those sparkling green eyes wouldn't sparkle anymore.

"I know she's coming back, Constance." confessed the non-witch with a small voice.

That was enough. The older woman snatched her hand away from Imogen's, standing, tall and impressive, beside the bed.

"Out." she commanded calmly, magically opening the door for the non-witch to understand.

"Constance, don't do this now. Don't push me away when you need all the support you can get..." pleaded the blonde, getting on her feet to encircle her girlfriend's waist with her bare arms.

"Miss Drill. I want you out at this very instant." she asked with her cold-hearted voice, a voice she hadn't used in quite a while in her lover's presence.

Constance waited in silence, looking anywhere but in the short blonde's eyes. Of course, Imogen knew better than to argue with a stubborn and close-minded Constance Hardbroom, so she intended to go out without a word, still daring to press a warm kiss on her witch's lips.

She didn't flinch until the door was closed behind her tenacious companion. The broken witch sat on her bed without being really conscious of the consequences of rejecting Imogen, her mind racing at full speed to find some kind of solution to her bigger preoccupation. But there wasn't. There could only be problems with Heckitty Broomhead's return.

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	2. 1

**1.**

Mistress Broomhead was sitting in a large armchair, sipping a glass full of Brandy. She wasn't the type of woman to smile a lot; in fact, she almost never smiled. But when she did... When she did, you hope she didn't even know how to smile.

Smiles were never a good sign coming from her. In this particular case, with her satisfied smile on, Constance was right to expect the worse. All alone in her living room, Mistress Broomhead celebrated her victory to come with great alcohol. Her plan was perfection, everything was well organized and she thought about every single details. She had considered all of the scenarios she could think off and yet... she was winning in each of them.

With that particular plan, not only was she winning a fight, but she was also winning war. After all those years of watching Constance, making sure she was as strict as she taught her to be, she was still content with the Deputy's behaviour. But since this Imogen Drill entered her life... Hardbroom was starting to open up, to loosen up, to develop her human capacities. She even talked about her past, about her own beloved methods back at the Witch Training College! It was suppose to be their secret, and yet... Yet Constance talked too much. It was an unacceptable situation, that needed to be dealt with.

Heckitty Broomhead wasn't an impulsive woman. She didn't storm at Cackle's to have a talk with her ex-pupil, no. She waited. And waited, and waited. But while she was waiting, she was observing Miss Hardbroom, learning her flaws, collecting private information... and private moments. She was planning a revenge, one who wouldn't be sweet. She wanted her to feel pain, but not the usual physical pain, oh God no. This time, Hardbroom would know what real pain felt like.

Leaning back in her chair, Mistress Broomhead looked at the calendar on the desk in front of her. A year of waiting was clearly enough ; it was time to get things done. Slowly, if necessary, but done. Her plan would be falling into place in a week, starting with a simple visit to a certain non-witch...

xxx

Miss Drill was coming from her night run ratter late, trying not to make any sound. She didn't want to wake anyone, especially not her witch. She walked into the staffroom, sitting on the couch with satisfaction. She was breathing loudly, her face flushed red with heat. She was covered with sweat, wearing only shorts and a sports bra. She felt great, knowing she was probably the only one to be awake at this late hour.

But she was clearly wrong. Not even a second after having that thought, Constance appeared in the staffroom, hair untied, mouth opened and ready to yell. When the witch realised it was only Imogen, and not some student up after lights out, she shut her mouth close. The blonde was looking up at her lover, not even trying to engage a conversation. She didn't know what was the matter with Constance lately, but she wisely decided not to take any part into this. She would wait for her girlfriend to come around, even if it took all year. Of course, Miss Drill knew it was all linked to Heckitty Broomhead's visit, announced by Miss Cackle sooner this week. But she didn't get why the witch was pulling away, not even bothering to explain to her what was going on in her pretty head. They were stronger together; as a team, they could clearly take the bitch down. At least Miss Drill thought so.

Even if she was determined to let Constance make the first move, she wasn't ready to give up all the advantages of being a couple yet. She stood up from the couch, gently pressing her body against her lover's. Imogen pressed her forehead on the witch's, stroking the pale cheek with one tender hand. Sparkling green eyes looked deep down into intense brown ones, searching for any answer. When she met fake coldness and repress desire, the non-witch kissed those burgundy lips who still made her shiver, even after all the kisses they shared. Constance answered timidly to the kiss, slowly losing control for a second when she allowed her hands to run down Imogen's naked waist. She regained it as fast as she lost it, closing her eyes and ending the kiss.

"Imogen, please, I can't..." she murmured, her lips still brushing Miss Drill's.

"Give me one good reason why I suddenly can't make love to you, and I'll stop." declared the blonde, who was more hurt than she would admit.

"You're all covered in sweat. It's highly inappropriate." muttered the witch, trying to look away from those small and firm breasts who drove her crazy. Damn you, sports bra.

Imogen let a small laugh escaped from her lips when she heard the "good reason" her girlfriend chose. She pressed herself harder on Constance's tall body, making her gasped when she bumped into the table, sitting on its edge. Miss Drill took advantage of the position, running her hands under the thigh dress, on Miss Hardbroom's legs that seemed to go on forever. The sportswoman reached the pale earlobe, gently nibbling at it with her teeth.

"It didn't seem to bother you before..." she whispered playfully, caressing the slender neck with open-mouthed kisses.

It took all of what was left of Constance willpower to gently push the non-witch away from her. She took a deep breath and looked at her lover with intensity, taking her hand to reassure her.

"Imogen. Do you trust me?" she asked with the hope of a positive answer.

"Do you even need to ask? I just want you to know that I'm here, ok? Right here." the non-witch replied with loving eyes, pressing her lover's palm on her chest.

Constance made a small smile and kissed the back of her hand, vanishing from the room right after. She had one more thing to do before Mistress Broomhead arrival; tonight had confirmed her that it wasn't an option anymore.

She had to distance herself from Imogen, and fast. She became so close to the non-witch, it was scaring her. She didn't regret any part of her relationship with the gorgeous blonde, not even for a moment. She wanted to remember every tiny bit of it for the rest of her life, but she couldn't take such risk as to keep those memories with her all the time. She took a knife out of one of her desk drawers, tracing a small blood line by making a small cut in the palm of her hand. The witch used a small potion vial, letting fall in it one drop for every significant memory she had with Imogen. She casted a spell while closing the vial, hiding it somewhere safe.

She couldn't take the risk of Mistress Broomhead entering her head again, like when she was very young. If the powerful old witch had those in her hands... the damages that she could make would be incommensurable. If Heckitty knew of her relationship with the blonde, with a non-witch, she would have in her possession the most powerful of all weapons: a direct way to her ex-pupil's heart. It had took Constance years of practice to close her heart to everyone, too scared that her former Mistress would try to reach it to mess it up again. There was no other way. Of course, Constance still knew she had those memories... only now, no one could get them from her. They were safe. So was Imogen.

xxx

Mistress Broomhead's laugh echoed into her almost empty manor. Constance was so predictable, so easy to read. Everything was going exactly how she planned it: Heckitty knew that by announcing her visit at Cackle's, Hardbroom would panic and make everything in her power to protect her loved ones. And when Constance used her heart, she somehow forgot to use her brain as well...

**Thank you so much, my kind reviewers! Tell me what you think of this one xxx**


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